


fill me up (with some money)

by cherryonbottom



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Belly Kink, Feeding Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 21:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14902670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryonbottom/pseuds/cherryonbottom
Summary: “I want to stuff you,” Joe says. “I want to see you stuffed, want to touch you when you’re so full like that.”Pete’s breath hitches, and he almost wants to pull away from where Joe’s hands are running over his stomach because Joe’s attention so intently focused on him is almost too much in the best possible way. “Joe, I want -please.”aka i wanted self-indulgent kinky fob fic and decided i should just write it myself





	fill me up (with some money)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is stuffing kink! don't read it if you don't like it, it's not a difficult concept :)
> 
> \- warnings: obviously, stuffing involves overeating so please be safe if you're affected by an ed. this fic also involves a small section where one character gets slightly rough with feeding. there is a safeword in place and everything is completely consensual, but i figured i'd mention that anyway just in case. let me know if i forgot anything! - 
> 
> (also this is like. not proofread at all and it's one am so. just drop a comment if there's a typo or something dumb)

“I want to stuff you,” Joe says. “I want to see you stuffed, want to touch you when you’re so full like that.” 

Pete’s breath hitches, and he almost wants to pull away from where Joe’s hands are running over his stomach because Joe’s attention so intently focused on him is almost too much in the best possible way. “Joe, I want -  _ please. _ ” His voice is breathier than he’d expected, words barely formed.

Pete can feel Joe smirk against the back of his neck. “What do you want?”

“I, fuck, Joe, I want you to stuff me,” Pete says, all in a rush. He’s not used to this, to being so out of territory he’s used to. This wasn’t even something he’d realized he was  _ into  _ until a couple of weeks ago when Joe had eaten… a little too much at dinner. The sex they’d had that night was some of the best they’d ever had. Afterwords, Pete had managed to choke something out about liking seeing Joe like that, and they’d had a long, embarrassing conversation that’s somehow ended up with them here, lying together in bed with the plans they’ve made for tomorrow heavy between them.

Joe pushes his hips forward just enough for Pete to feel him pressing hard against his ass. “Tomorrow,” Joe reminds him softly.

“Yeah,” Pete breathes out before rolling over and reaching down to fist Joe’s dick until he comes.

* * *

 

“So, we didn’t talk about this before, but can I tie you up for this? I think you’ll… enjoy it more that way,” says Joe.

Pete nods. His palms are sweaty as he reaches for the hem of his shirt. “Okay, and uh, did you want this on or off?”   


“On, for now,” Joe says. “Just sit up and give me your arms for a second.”

Pete does, holding his hands behind his back so Joe can tie them together with a strip of thin black ribbon. 

“Color?” Joe asks as he gently pushes Pete to sit back against the headboard of the bed.

“Green,” Pete says immediately. He’s nervous, that’s for sure, nervous because what if he doesn’t actually like this or what if his limits are way too short for what Joe wants and what if - 

“Stop thinking,” Joe murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Pete’s lips. “If you want to stop, just say red and we will, no questions asked. But I really think you’re going to like this. I’m going to go get the pizza in a second, it’s almost here, and then we’ll get started, okay?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Pete says. He knows this isn’t one of those times where he’s supposed to stay quiet, but words aren’t really… working for him right now.

The doorbell rings then, and Joe gives Pete a smile that’s half-comforting and half-dirty as he disappears down the hall.

Pete shifts on the bed, testing the knot his wrists are tied with. It’s not the usual type that Joe uses, its purpose isn’t to hold Pete down for once - just to take away his hands. He rolls his shoulders slightly, eyeing his stomach. He doesn’t know what exactly Joe has planned, but he kind of hopes it’ll be enough to  _ see.  _

Joe’s back a second later. “Hey,” he says. He’s holding two cans of Coke and a pizza box. “So. I have a pizza.”   
  
“You do,” Pete confirms uselessly, because his mouth has gone completely dry and he has no idea what the fuck to say. 

“Yep,” Joe says. He sits on the bed next to Pete, cross-legged with the pizza next to him, and says, “Relax, babe, it’s just me. We don’t have to do this, you know, if you want to raincheck or just not do it at all.”   
  
Pete shakes his head. “No, trust me, I - I want this. Let’s just, um, get started?”

Joe gives him another one of those half-and-half smiles and opens the pizza box. He doesn’t say anything as he picks up a slice, gooey cheese dangling from the ends, and slowly brings it to Pete’s mouth. “Open,” he says softly, and Pete opens his mouth and takes a small bite before he can think too much.

It’s good pizza, from Pete’s favorite place, and there’s already a bit of sauce dripping down his chin by the time he’s finished the first slice.

“Joe, I have -” he says, trying to move his shoulders in a way that indicates the sauce, but Joe just smirks at him.

“I’ll take care of it if you really want, but you look good messy,” Joe says, reaching for another piece of pizza instead of any sort of napkin like he already knows what Pete’s going to do.

Pete swallows hard at the mental image of how he must look right now and drops the matter as he opens his mouth for the next bite of pizza.

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, and Pete’s starting to relax into the comfort of Joe feeding him. The sexual edge they’ve both been dancing on all day has him half-hard, especially combined with the looks Joe’s been giving him since they started this, but overall it’s just  _ comfortable.  _ The pizza’s good, and Joe is really good at knowing when to pause to give Pete some Coke or just a second to breathe.

However, once Pete’s eaten about half of the large pizza, he starts to feel a little… full. “Fuck, one second,” he tells Joe instead of taking a bite of the new slice he’s being offered. “Green, don’t worry, I just… need a minute.”

“Getting full?” Joe asks, a sly edge to his voice.

“A bit,” Pete confesses. “How much left?”

“You’re halfway through the pizza,” Joe says. “I’ll give you a break for a second, actually, because I just had an idea… be right back, babe.”

He gets up and starts searching through the closet until he returns, grinning, with a black silk blindfold. “Okay?”

Pete nods immediately, and Joe leans forward and secures the blindfold around Pete’s eyes. “I’m not going to tell you how much you have left from here on out,” he says. “I just want you to take it for me.”   


Pete doesn’t even have time to process how fucking hot that is, shit, before there’s another slice of pizza pressing against his lips, and he opens his mouth without a second thought. It’s almost easier this way to forget about the ache in his stomach and the slowly dwindling pizza in the box and just focus on each bite as he eats it - the warm, soft crust, the stringy cheese, the sauce that’s somehow ending up all over his face, and the cool fizz of the Coke. 

There’s a pressure settling down in his stomach, heavy and starting to edge onto painful but it feels fucking  _ amazing,  _ better than Pete ever thought it could. He doesn’t realize he’s making soft sounds, almost moans, around the pizza until Joe laughs a little and says, “Sounds like you’re enjoying this."

“Fuck, Joe, I - yeah,” Pete admits.

Joe laughs again, slightly smug but mostly really, really turned on. “Good, because so am I. And you’re doing so good for me, Pete, just taking whatever I give you like this, letting me fill you up.”

Pete  _ definitely  _ moans around the next bite, a piece of just crust, and then there’s nothing there when he opens his mouth again. “Joe?” he asks, confused.

“You finished the pizza,” Joe explains, and it sounds like he would be laughing if it wasn’t for the way he’s practically moaning out the words. “Fuck, Pete, you’re doing so good for me. You ate an entire pizza. Holy shit.”   
  
Pete can’t help but preen a little under the praise, getting even harder, and it takes him a moment before he really processes Joe’s words. An entire fucking large pizza. Jesus Christ, that’s… a lot of fucking food. He can feel the heavy weight of it in his stomach, mixed with the bubbles from the soda, and fuck, Pete can’t believe he’s never tried this before.  _ Jesus.  _

“Are we - is this - “ Pete stammers out, and he hates the almost-disappointment in his voice at the thought that this could be it. True, he’s not entirely sure if he could eat anything else - but that’s right where he wants to be. And he wants Joe to push him further.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re definitely not done,” Joe assures him. “I just have to get something from the kitchen real quick, alright? Be back in a sec.”

He presses a soft kiss to Pete’s belly that makes Pete gasp, and then his footsteps are echoing down the hallway to the kitchen.

Joe’s back about a minute later, and there’s the sound of a plastic container being opened before Pete feels something against his mouth.

He takes a bite without even really thinking about it, and the sweet taste is a surprise compared to the pizza. “Cupcake?” he says after swallowing the soft cake and sugary frosting.

“More than one, but yes,” Joe answers. 

Pete lets Joe feed him another bite before saying, “How many?” He doubts that he could eat more than  _ two  _ right now; his stomach really started to ache while Joe was out getting the cupcakes, the pizza really starting to set in.

“Twelve,” Joe tells him after a moment. “You don’t have to eat them all, but I think you can. And I think you want to.”

Pete’s breath catches in his throat.  _ Twelve.  _ Jesus. Joe’s right, though, he does want to, so he just takes another large bite without complaining. He can feel frosting sticking to his lips and tries to lick some of it off, which earns a gasp from Joe.

“Christ, Pete, that’s - you’re doing so fucking good for me.”

Pete makes it through the rest of the cupcake, knowing he’s finished by the way his lips brush Joe’s hand, and then he leans back slightly and murmurs, “Hurts a little.”

Joe gets his meaning instantly and puts a hand on Pete’s stomach, pushing slightly as he rubs. “Wait til you see yourself,” he says. “You look so stuffed right now, anyone who could see you would know how much you’ve had, you’re a fucking stuffed  _ mess. _ ”

“Fuck,” Pete says, the sound more of a whine from the back of his throat than coherent speech. He doesn’t know what’s making him so achingly hard right now - Joe’s words, the soothing pressure of Joe’s hands, the weight of all the food he’s eaten ( _ An entire fucking pizza,  _ he reminds himself) and the promise of more to come, or some combination of the three - but he’s so fucking turned on that he’s pretty sure he could come instantly if Joe were to touch his dick. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

“Ready for the next one?” Joe asks, keeping one hand rubbing Pete’s stomach as he unwraps another cupcake.

Pete doesn’t have time to answer before Joe’s pretty much shoving the treat into his mouth, and Pete can’t help but whine again as he swallows because fuck, he should’ve known he would like this more when it's rough. 

“Color?” Joe asks hesitantly once Pete’s swallowed.

“Green, green, green,” Pete rushes out. “Fuck, Joe, please, I - I want more.”   


Joe’s only answer is the rest of the cupcake being pushed into Pete’s mouth, which Pete is  _ more  _ than fine with. He lets Joe continue to feed him the rest of the desserts roughly, his pace almost getting faster even though Pete has a feeling that he’ll be reaching his actual limits soon.

He can feel his stomach pressing against the waistband of his jeans where they weren’t tight before and the way his shirt is stretched, trying to ride up over the swell of his stomach that he can only imagine. Pete feels like he’s eaten a fucking elephant or some shit, what with the aching weight in his belly, and he should  _ not  _ be finding this as hot as he is but. It’s fucking hot.

Joe’s feeding doesn’t slow down until it abruptly stops. It almost takes Pete a second to realize; he’d fallen so far back into the rhythm of being fed that all he really noticed was the sweet taste of the cupcakes and the pressure in his stomach. 

Pete drinks some of the Coke Joe’s holding to his lips, and then Joe’s reaching around the back of Pete’s head and untying the blindfold. “You’re all done, Pete, you did fucking  _ amazing _ . You’re so fucking stuffed for me.”

“Fuck,” Pete nearly whimpers as he adjusts his eyes to the light and drops his gaze to his stomach. “ _ Jesus.”  _ His shirt is indeed pushed up over his stomach, which is proudly sporting a swell that definitely wasn’t there before, and his jeans are almost starting to hurt from how tight they are.

Joe’s hand is tracing possessive circles over Pete’s stomach, firm and rubbing away the ache, and the sight is almost too fucking much and Pete is pretty damn close to coming in his pants like a middle schooler.

“I - Joe, could you - jeans,” he manages.

“Yeah, fuck, Pete, you’re so fucking - fuck,” Joe says, voice ragged, as he unbuttons Pete’s jeans and they watch together as Pete’s stomach spills out to hang just slightly over his dick. There are dark red indentations left behind from the jeans, and Joe leans down and licks at them until Pete’s gasping.

“Fuck, fuck, I need, Joe, touch me, please, fuck,” Pete begs. Coherent thought just… isn’t something his brain is into anymore, apparently, all he knows is sight and feeling and touch. 

Joe seems to be about the same point as he reaches down and wraps his hand around Pete’s dick, groaning softly when his knuckles brush Pete’s stomach. “We’re, fuck, we’re so doing this again,” he chokes out. The only lube he has on his hand is spit, and the mostly dry friction should hurt, but Pete’s too far gone to notice.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you’re stuffed,” Joe says above Pete’s litany of “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and with that, Pete’s coming all over Joe’s hand.

“Holy shit,” Pete says, trying to catch his breath. His chest is heaving and he can feel his once-loose shirt sticking tight to his skin partly because of sweat and partly because of the way his stomach’s filled out.

Joe doesn’t even manage another word as he starts jerking himself off, jeans hastily shoved down around his thighs and hand a blur until he comes all over Pete’s stomach. “ _ Fuck. _ ” 

He leans in and kisses Pete, kisses all the frosting off his lips, and Pete is pretty sure that he could be persuaded to get hard again in about 30 seconds if Joe kept going.

Joe leans back a second later, though, panting, and says, “Fuck,” one more time. “I, uh. Wow. Holy fuck. I’m about to fucking crash, and I’m sure you are too, just let me, uh, clean that up for you first,” he says, indicating the mess on Pete’s stomach. 

Pete manages something close to a nod as Joe disappears and returns almost immediately with a wet washcloth. He cleans Pete’s stomach gently before untying Pete’s wrists and helping him lie down on the bed, tossing the washcloth aside as he returns to rubbing Pete’s stomach. 

“I, uh - we’re doing that again,” Pete announces. Joe was right, he feels like he’s about to drop and just sleep for a week. His eyelids are post-orgasm heavy and the weight in his stomach feels warm and grounding, and Pete just catches Joe’s response of, “Definitely,” before he falls asleep. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> comments/kudos are rly appreciated!


End file.
